The One With The Poorly Planned Bet
by Balongdag
Summary: An unlosable bet, surprisingly, is lost, and the Ark finds themselves with a new second and third in command.


**_This was based on the 'Friends' episode 'The One With The Embryos'_**

"Sideswipe, information regarding the command staff is none of your business." Prowl said as he strode into the rec room, irritated front liner floating in behind him.

Sideswipe scoffed, "Oh come on, you're just made because I know that Jazz doesn't actually watch the monitors when he is on duty, and because of that you can't prove that I did it."

Jazz lifted his head, hands going up as the second in command turned his glare on him, "Wow, wow, wow, I watch the monitor when I'm on duty. Like a hawk."

Prowl gave the saboteur a disbelieving look, "So, you can tell me what exactly Sideswipe was doing at 12: AM this morning?"

Jazz paused, mouth faltering as he tried to form a valid excuse, but the hesitation was enough confirmation for Prowl. The taction turned, facing Sideswipe once more, who was smirking as he leaned up against the bulkhead.

"How do you even know that?"

The front liner grinned, "I just know Jazz," he paused, "And you."

Prowl frowned, "What?"

Sideswipe laughed, "You don't think pranking takes the expertise of knowing your enemy? In this case, the enemy is the command staff."

"You do not know us." Prowl insisted, eyeing Sideswipe like he had grown a second head.

Was it really so surprising?

"It's true." Sunstreaker perked up from his place on the couch, head turning away from whatever program Teletraan 1 was playing.

Jazz ignored him, shaking his head, "I cannot believe you think you know us. If anythin', we know you."

This time it was Sunstreaker who scoffed, "Yeah, right."

Prowl raised an optic ridge, "Well, we certainly have all the records about you two to know you well enough."

"Yeah, well that's cheating," Sideswipe grumbled.

Jazz grinned, "Then that's that, we know you two better than you two know us, just face it, we got the means of knowin' everything."

Sideswipe straightened out, stepping off the bulkhead, "Oh really? Well, if you will so dearly check Prowl's subspace, you'll find a half-eaten box of custom made energon donuts."

Jazz scoffed, easily reaching over and pick pocketing the tactician's subspace pocket, ignoring his angry protests, "As if- Oh my Primus."

Prowl scowled, snatching the box away from the third in commands servos, "That, was entirely inappropriate, and immature." He snapped, glaring at the saboteur and Sideswipe.

The red twin cackled, "We know why you don't refuel often, huh Prowl?"

"Who made these?" Jazz questioned, reaching for the tactician's subspace once more, only to get his hand slapped away sharply.

Prowl grumbled, "Wheeljack."

Sideswipe grinned, smiling smugly as he flopped onto the couch next to his twin, "Told you."

"Hey, that's not fair." Jazz protested, gliding up behind the couch, "If you get to riffle through Prowls subspace, then I get to do it to one of you."

His visor glinted, and his gaze shifted to the yellow twin, "Sunstreaker, how many things you got in your susbspace?"

The front liner tilted his head, mentally tallying the items, "Only three."

"I bet I can guess every item in there."

Sideswipe glanced at his twin, and the two stared at each other for a click, before finally looking back at the saboteur, "Alright, you're on. How many guesses do you get?"

"Six." He answered as their EM fields mingled in affirmation of the bet.

Jazz grinned, cracking his servos as he eyed Sunstreaker, "First item is a buffing cloth."

The twins scowled as the yellow twin nodded, Sideswipe scoffing as he revealed the guessed item, "That one was easy."

The third in command shrugged, thinking for a second, before his visor brightened, "An art magazine."

Sunstreaker eyes narrowed, "Name of it?"

"What's it called? 'Frankie' or something?" Jazz replied, smirking.

Sideswipe side eyed his brother, "Really?"

The front liner shrugged, "It's got some nice pictures."

Jazz ignored them, studying the smudges of a dried, brown substance on yellow and black hands, "Last item. Is it clay?"

Sideswipe jumped to his feet, "Ha! It's not clay! You lose, we win!"

"He's got another guess." Prowl pointed out dryly.

The red twin pouted, "Well, we won that one."

Jazz grinned, "Well if it's not clay then you got a little something on your hands, mech."

Sunstreaker glanced down at his servos and gasped at the little bits of clay that had dried into the seams of his hands. He quickly unsubspaced his buffing cloth again, rubbing furiously at his hands as Jazz chuckled.

Sideswipe dropped back onto the couch, waving his hands impatiently, "Come on, come on,get to the last item already."

Jazz thought for a second, then grinned, "I think I got it. Finely ground, crystalized white powder."

Sunstreaker paused in his cleaning, refusing to meet optics with the saboteur as he laughed.

"I guess I'm correct?" He grinned, leering jokingly at the yellow mech.

Prowl frowned, "I thought femmes only-"

"Alright!" Sunstreaker interrupted loudly, "Whatever you won, Sideswipe lets go."

Said twin shrugged out of his brother's grip, "No way! I am not losing to him."

"Come on! It's been proven that we know you better. Just let it go." Jazz crowed.

"You know, I think Sunstreaker is right, this is a waste of my ti-"

Jazz held a hand up, "Prowl, shh."

Sideswipe was (silently) impressed. He wished he could get away with doing that to the stiff, rule-abiding second in command. He couldn't count how many times he had so badly wanted to tell the uptight mech to just shut up.

"You want to make this interesting?" Sideswipe proposed, crossing his arms expectantly.

"Alright, I'm always down for a good ol' bit of gambling. What do you want to bet?"

Prowl suddenly perked up, doorwings twitching, "Well, if I'm going to be a part of this foolishness, I want a say. If we win, I want no pranking for the rest of the year."

Sideswipe's expression instantly fell, and his optics whirred as he mulled it over.

"Alright," He said slowly, "But what do we get if we win?"

"Full access to Teletraan whenever you want?" Jazz offered.

The front liner shook his head, "I want a free reign for the rest of the year, no brig, no lectures, nothing."

A mischievous grin was already spreading across his face as he imagined all the possibilities of not having to worry about authority.

"Deal!" Jazz exclaimed, and before Prowl could say anything, EM fields were intermingling, and the bet was sealed.

"Jazz," Prowl hissed as he yanked the third in command away from the twins, "What do you think you're doing! What if we lose?"

Jazz rolled his optics under his visor, "We won't lose, I mean between you and me, we're unbeatable!"

Prowl frowned, still unsure, "I don't want Sideswipe wreaking havoc across the Ark just because we lost a bet."

"He won't! What are you worried about, your doorwings are as steady as a rock."

"That's because I think my processor is half frizzing and I've lost all feel of them."

Jazz winced, and gingerly patted his superior, "It'll be fine, just don't have a fit now, we have to win. Try and hold it in, or something."

"Alright, if you girls are finished gossiping, how are we going to do this?" Sideswipe called, waving the two mechs over.

"How bout' a quiz? Mechs with the highest points win."

Sunstreaker shrugged, "But who's going to think up the questions? We can't do it, that's too easy."

Jazz rolled his shoulders, "We'll just find someone else, someone who knows us well."

()()()()()()()()()()()()()

"Why, exactly, am I here?" Ratchet asked irritably, casting suspicious looks at the twins.

"We need you to quiz us about each other." Jazz explained.

Ratchet's processor blanched, and he cast a questioning look at the sulking second in command, "What..?"

Jazz tapped his foot impatiently, "A quiz. You know, ask questions, keep score."

"I know that," The medic snapped, snatching the datapad from the third in command, "I'm just wondering why the frag you're doing it."

"And why," He added blithely, eyeing the twins, "Does it always somehow end up involving you two."

Sideswipe threw an innocent smile at the already frothing CMO, and laughed at the frosty glare he received in return.

"Alright," Ratchet grumbled, glancing down at the datapad, "Each team will answer some questions, yada, yada, yada, and whoever gets the most answers correct wins. Got it?"

Two eager, and two not so eager nods were his responses.

"So, who goes first?"

"We do." Sideswipe and Jazz called, immediately glaring at each other as their words clashed.

"What about we do what the humans do and flip a coin?" Sunstreaker suggested testily

Ratchet scowled, "I can barely hold a human phone, what makes you think I can hold a tiny, fragging coin, let alone flip one?"

His answer was a shiny penny held out on the tip of Sideswipes finger.

The scowl deepened, and Ratchet grumbled and muttered all sorts of offensive expletives under his breath as he balanced the tiny thing on his thumb.

He jerked his hand up, and the five watched it expectantly as it fluttered to the ground.

Ratchet groaned and fished it from the floor, "Someone call it this time!"

The coin was flipped once more, and much to Prowls annoyance, Jazz jostled his doorwings and almost shorted out his audials as he jumped and exuberantly yelled "Tails!"

Ratchet shook his head as his optics whirred, zooming in on the small coin on the ground, "Heads."

"Ha! Sucker, we go first!" Sideswipe taunted, ignoring the exasperated look his brother shot at him through slitted lenses.

"What is Prowls biggest pet peeve?" Was the first question, and the red front liner jumped to answer.

"Incorrect pronunciations!"

Jazz snickered and Prowl frowned, "Well, It's library, not lie-berry. There is nothing wrong with speaking correctly."

"Indeed there isn't." Sideswipe enunciated in exaggeration, sending a dry look at Prowl as he settled back into the couch.

Ratchet turned back to the third and second in command, "Alright you two, what did Sunstreaker have to do on his first art-related job for a client?"

"Paint a naked Senator!" Jazz crowed.

Sunstreaker shuddered, and Sideswipe patted him on the back in sympathy.

"How do you even know that?" Prowl muttered.

Sideswipe grinned, making a lewd movement with his hand as he leered at Jazz, who stuck his tongue out at the front liner in retaliation.

"Children, please, I don't have all day." Ratchet commented dryly, already weary. The twin's presence always set off an aching helm ache that had him grumbling for breems.

"When he was an enforcer, Prowl held feelings for his assigned partner who did not return said feelings, what was his designation?"

Sideswipe bit his lip, turning to his brother, who had creased his forehead as he sent a questioning look to his twin, "Enforcer?"

Sideswipe shot his twin an incredulous look, "He had a real name!"

Sunstreaker glanced back at Ratchet, ignoring his brother, "Chromedome!"

Sideswipe wiggled in his seat, glaring at the yellow mech, "What are you doing!"

"Doing what you always do, going for it!"

"But-"

"That's correct!"

Sideswipe grinned, slapping his brother on the arm and ignoring the glare that was shot his way, "Nice shooting!"

Prowl scowled, "Was it really necessary to add that little bit of information?"

"What, that you had a crush on a dude who didn't like you back?" Sideswipe joked.

"That's it! You're going to the brig you little-"

"Can we please get through this," Jazz interrupted, uncharacteristically judicious.

"Alright." Prowl huffed, throwing one last glare at the frontliner.

"Good, cause I wanna win." He whined.

Prowl vented a sigh, wishing that he were at his desk, working on datapads and enjoying the feeling of knowing that Sideswipe was sitting in the brig, festering as punishment for the trouble his inane hobbies got him in.

Ratchet cleared his throat, gathering their attention once more, "Every week a tv guide is delivered to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, who is it addressed to?"

"Oh, oh! It goes to Sunstreaker, it's addressed to Sunstreaker!" Jazz shouted, hanging onto the couch as he leaned over in excitement.

"No!" Prowl groaned as Sideswipe shouted, fists clenching as he fist bumped the air.

"That isn't the right answer, sorry." Ratchet said, sounding entirely not sorry, and completely bored.

"What!"

"It goes to a 'Little Miss Streaking Sunshine', Jazz." Ratchet corrected, doing his best to hold in laughter as Sunstreaker sent him a murderous glare.

"I knew that!" Prowl snapped, door wings whacking Jazz in the head as he grumbled.

"Ow! We are on the same team, Prowl, Primus." He muttered as he rubbed his helm.

"Use your head, for Primus sake."

Jazz sent an offended glare at the tactician, which was ignored as he fixated his gaze on the medic expectantly.

Ratchet coughed awkwardly, "Uh, okay."

Sideswipe rubbed his hands, ignoring the mechs that had gathered around the four as they shouted and crowed at each other. They probably should have chosen to do this somewhere more private.

"Well, you're tying so, uh, how about we do a 'lightening round', like on those games shows."

Sideswipe hiked an optic ridge, "You watch gameshows?"

"No!" The medic snapped quickly, and glared as the front liner erupted into giggles.

"I hope you two lose." He grumbled.

"Alright, who goes first?" Sunstreaker asked impatiently, uncomfortable with so many mechs watching them.

"You two can."

Sideswipe, who had jumped to his feet in his excitement, nodded animatedly, bouncing on the spot as he waited.

"Stop that."

"Sorry."

"Okay, ready?"

"Readier than I've ever been, we are going to destroy you!" He crowed, pointing a mocking finger at the tactician and saboteur.

Jazz's visor brightened as he laughed, "You wish. We are gonna' win this easy."

"Oh, you wanna bet?"

The tactician eyed the front liner, "What exactly have we been doing for the last couple of breems then?"

"How bout we play for something more?" Sideswipe cajoled.

Prowl perked up, "How about if we win, you have to give up the insecticon."

Susntreaker shot to his feet, expression murderous, "What!"

"And Sideswipe," He added as a second thought, ignoring the glare that was sent his way.

"Hey!"

"You can't take Bob! He's family!" Sunstreaker protested, fist clenching.

Sideswipe thought for a second, expression contemplative as he looked between his brother and the second in command.

"Alright, if we lose, we'll give up the bug!"

"What!" Sunstreaker screeched as he whirled on his brother.

Sideswipe held up a soothing hand, "But! If we win, we get your positions as second and third in command."

Sunstreakers fist faltered, and he turned back to the commanders, "Oo, that's interesting."

Prowl instantly scowled, "Absolutely not!"

"Deal!" Jazz exclaimed, ignoring Prowl as he jumped up to seal their fate.

"Okay," Ratchet said impatiently, "Are you ready now?

"No!" Prowl protested, but went ignored as the two settled back down.

Sunstreaker nudged his brother, "We better not lose, or I swear to Primus I am going to kill you, slowly, and with fire."

"We won't lose." Sideswipe muttered.

Ratchet eyed the four of them, before lifting up his datapad to continue the quiz.

"Back in the academy, Prowl had a nickname, what was it?"

"The valve repeller!"

All eyes were instantly on the red front liner.

"Sideswipe, how on Earth do you even know that?" The tactician snapped.

The front liner shrugged, "I heard Jazz call you it once."

Jazz immediately shrunk back, wincing at the withering glare that was sent his way.

Ratchet ignored their squabbling, and continued impatiently.

"Jazz claims this is favourite song…?"

"I Wish by Stevie Wonder."

"His actual favourite song is?"

"My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion!"

Sideswipe stuck out his glossa out at the saboteur as Sunstreaker snickered.

Jazz frowned, returning the gesture with his own equally rude one.

"How many songs does Jazz have altogether, including downloads, tapes, and anything he could store music one?" Ratchet questioned, bringing the three out of their squabble.

The twins paused, and Jazz bounced in his seat, expression giddy.

"Uh." Sideswipe groaned.

"How many genres does he listen to?" Sunstreaker questioned, tugging on his brother's shoulder.

"I don't know, hundreds!"

"Ten seconds." Ratchet warned.

"Three million, five hundred thousand and fifty-seven!" Sideswipe exclaimed, digging his fingers into his brother's arm.

Jazz gaped, and Ratchet raised an optic ridge, "That is actually correct."

"Yes!"

"Next question, next question!" The saboteur urged in annoyance, crossing his arms.

"Jazz does what instead of watching the monitor when he is on duty?"

"Uh, jerk off?"

Ratchet glared, "No. He actually-"

"Wow!" Jazz interrupted nervously, glancing at Prowl, "Are you trying to throw me under the bus?"

Ratchet rolled his optics, "Okay, now you two are up. Ready? So we can get this over with and I can finally leave."

Jazz nodded, patting a very unamused Prowls arm.

The medic heaved a sigh, opening his mouth to deliver yet another inane question.

"What is Sideswipes favourite cartoon?"

"Scooby Doo!" Prowl answered, and quickly found himself under the optics of mechs giving him strange looks.

"Sunstreaker cried how many times during the movie 'Old yeller'?"

"Ten!" Jazz exclaimed, jabbing his finger at a sheepish Sunstreaker.

"Seriously, bro?"

Sunstreaker scowled at Sideswipe, "Hey, you cried too."

"Nuh uh."

"Ya huh."

"Nuh uh."

"Ya huh!"

"NU-"

"Next question!" Ratchet snapped, and the twins cowered in their seats.

"What was Sunstreakers name before he changed it?"

"You're original name isn't Sunstreaker?" Jazz instantly asked, visor flashing curiously.

"Jazz!" Prowl snapped urgently.

"Um, I don't know!"

Prowl froze, panic seeping in at the thought of losing his position to Sideswipe of all mechs.

"What do you mean you don't know!"

"I mean I don't know!" The saboteur screeched.

"3 seconds."

"Oh, um, Sunswipe!" Jazz hurriedly exclaimed, wincing at the terrible answer.

Ratchet snorted, "Not even close."

Prowls optics widened, and Jazz shrunk back as the twins jumped up and whooped.

"Prowl?"

Prowl turned to Jazz, his optics fritzing and his helm sparking as he stared wide eyed at the saboteur, then the rejoicing twins.

"Oh, no." He muttered.

"Say hello to the new second and third in command!" Sideswipe crowed.

Prowls optics twitched, and his doorwings stood rigid, before he tilted forward, collapsing on the floor in a sparking, twitching mess of former second in command.


End file.
